


I Think I've Heard Them Call Him James - But We've Not Got So Far As Names

by hobokitten



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: BAMF Darcy Lewis, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Darcy Feels, Evil Science, F/M, Human Experimentation, I Don't Even Know, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-24
Updated: 2016-04-01
Packaged: 2018-03-08 22:28:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3225800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hobokitten/pseuds/hobokitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darcy went to college to save the world. Two Norse gods, one alien invasion, one near apocalypse, one secret agency collapse and a handful of near death experiences later, she dropped out of college to save herself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title from 'The Ad-Dressing of Cats' by T. S. Eliot
> 
> This is unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine. Feel free to point them out.

They met in the dark. In one of their safe places. The light from the window cast everything in shades of gray and shadow.

"I can keep you safe," He said, his voice almost wavering "here, with me."

He drew her in by her hand, so close that she had to arch her neck to meet his eyes. She bowed her head and closed her own against what she saw in them. A gentle tug brought the rough warmth to her cold face and she leaned into the touch.

"I know you can," She forced out past the quickly forming lump in her throat. God, she hadn't known how hard this would be. After all, she was leaving to protect him. No matter how dangerous he might be, one man couldn't fight what was after her on his own and survive. But the agency that had approached her could. The agency that was hunting him. "But I can't take that risk." her voice broke over the words and the tears that had been building finally escaped.

She felt the smooth, cool metal of his other hand join the first as he cupped her face and brushed away the tears. He murmured comfort to her in Russian with a Brooklyn accent and it damn near broke her stupid little heart.

"Darcy." His voice was so rough it reminded her of the beginning. Took her back years to when they first met. Another life.

5 years ago in Seattle

Somebody was saying her name but she couldn't be bothered to wake up all the way to answer them. She had been having the most decadent dream and was only just holding onto it by a single thread.

"Darcy!" Something slammed down beside her head with a solid thud. Jerking upright she quickly swiped the drool off her face and looked up at her boss from her desk. "Now is not the time for a goddamned nap!", He was shouting, his pudgy face turning red as he screamed.

Darcy mostly ignored him as she smoothed her hair down and surreptitiously checked her makeup in the reflection on her monitor. If she was getting fired she didn't want to do it with lipstick and eyeliner smeared all over her face. People might get the wrong idea.

Darcy went to college to save the world. Two Norse gods, one alien invasion, one near Apocalypse, one secret agency collapse and a handful of near death experiences later, she dropped out of college to save herself. Now she was a secretary for some no name defense attorney who was desperately trying and failing to make partner at a no name law firm. The world could do its own thing because she wasn't completely sure how much longer it would be around. However loyal she might be, she could see the course Jane was on and she was getting off the ride. She had done her very best to convince Jane to join her. How could they, two squishy normal humans, possibly survive being surrounded by gods and superheros?

The vague echo of screeching metal and shattering glass that kept her from sleep every night tried to surface and she stamped it down hard. She forced herself to refocus on Mr. Temper Tantrum. He wasn't even yelling at her anymore he was screaming at the intern now. A short little guy, the intern had close cropped blond hair and wore a poorly fitting suit. His murky brown eyes looked like they were filling with tears.

"Mr. Tims," she called standing up, she drew the line at letting the intern be abused, " I think that's enough." He wheeled around and stabbed a fat finger at her. His thinning once brown hair was plastered to his head with sweat.

"You can pack up your things and get out of here you little slut. YOU THINK I DON'T KNOW YOU'RE SLEEPING WITH EVERYONE ?", he roared. A sharp flare of anger stabbed Darcy completely driving out any common sense. And any hope of saving her shitty job.

"What just because I wouldn't fuck you I have to be fucking everybody else?" She sneered. She leaned forward and planted her hands on the metal desk. "You are a selfish slob, Tims. You are lazy and an abusive asshole. You wonder why nobody's looking at you for partner? You're a bad lawyer and a worse human being. Go ahead and fire me. I quit anyways."

She dragged open the drawer and snatched her keys. Jerking her purse onto her shoulder she all but stormed out of his offices. The people in the halls scrambled out of her way. They must have heard. Six months, she seethed. Six fucking months of putting up with that piece of shit and now she was out of a job.

 

 

The Winter Soldier was...bored. The feeling was a wonder to him. Nobody was telling him where to go, what to do, who to kill. It drove him to the edge of madness. It lifted him beyond ecstasy. To move on his own free will. To speak when he wanted and how he wanted. A chance to remember. So why then was he sitting in this dark apartment brooding?

_I want to go out._

The thought was a surprise to him. Assets did not want things. They did as they were told. But he wasn't an asset anymore. Not the Winter Soldier but James Barnes. Bucky. Maybe it was time to explore the city. He hoped Seattle was ready for him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy realizes what losing her job means. Bucky does a lot of thinking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is starting off a little slow but it's going to pick up soon.

Darcy's anger lasts her all the way home and five minutes in her apartment. Then she sees the bills on the counter and her anger devolves into panic.

"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit."

No job means no money. She shoved her hands in her hair and slid down the front of the fridge.

"Fuuuuuck." She groaned bumping her head against the smooth door. What is she going to do?

_I can't go running back to Jane. **I can't**. _

She has enough money to survive for a few months but even if she gets another job by then she will probably have to downsize. Maybe get a roommate. They would have to like cats. Darcy and her fuzzy, black, rescue kitten, Diablo, have become somewhat codependent since she brought him home.

Goddamnit the money was the only reason she dealt with that dick for so long. She felt a pang of guilt for leaving the intern, Jimmy, to deal with Mr.Tims. Maybe his next secretary would have a thing for fat, angry, old men.

She likes her apartment. It was a steal. What she pays for this place would usually get her a step up from a shoebox. There were two bedrooms. Her bedroom has a huge closet and comfortably fits the bedroom set she bought as a 'hooray, I quit college' gift to herself. She may or may not have bought a lot of those. She lives in a corner apartment so most of the rooms boast huge windows. Even though the view isn't all that great she still likes all of the natural light she gets during the day. Dark places depress her.

The first thing she'd done after moving in was paint all of the walls white. It isn't quite her style but she likes it. Makes her think of new beginnings and opportunities. It can be painted any color now. She left the exposed brick as it was.

Nobody else has seen her pretty white walls though. Darcy hasn't spent a lot of time making friends since she cut ties with Jane, Erik, and Thor. She misses them so much. Everyday she wonders what they're doing, if Erik's gotten any better, does Jane eat enough, how has Thor been handling his grief?

Moving all the way across the country strained the friendships she still has with _sane_ people. So even if she had reached out to them she doubts they would travel so far. Her mother died of cancer when she was in her tweens and if she has any other family they don't know about her. She'd bounced around the foster system for a while but that got old fast. As soon as she graduated high school, with honors, she was off to Culver.

Diablo bounded over to her already purring like a motor. He butted his head against her until she cuddled him in her lap. If he thought it was odd to find her sitting on the chilly tile floor he didn't say anything.

"We'll be okay, Diablo. You might have to learn to like another icky human but we'll be fine." She scratched him on the head and clutched him to her chest.

_I think I've felt sorry enough for myself. Time to fix it._

Rising to her feet almost gracefully, she set Diablo on the island. He meowed once then sat down, curling his little tail around his legs. His pale blue eyes fixed on what she was doing. She placed a small paper plate with soft food on it in front of him and absently raked her nails through his soft kitten fur as he ate.

It was only a little after noon. She could start job hunting today or she could take some time off. After the last few years she could use a break. Just a week or so to herself. Hide out in her apartment with her cat. Watch Netflix. Spend every day with no distraction from what happened in D.C.. Get a little more antisocial than she had already become.

"No. That's not for us, kitty cat." She grimaced. She'd have something to eat and then go out. The cafe down the block was hiring. She had plenty of experience with waitressing and coffee from high school. It wouldn't pay as well but it would tide her over until she found something better.

After Diablo finished she set him down, tossed the plate and grabbed her keys and purse. A quick check in the mirror by the door proved that her makeup had indeed survived the drama of the day and her hair was no worse for wear.

"I'm going out, Diablo. Behave." She calls as she locks the door behind her. Bonus points if she gets a job by the end of the day.

 

 

 

The Winter- ahem- Bucky wanders the city for hours. Mission: Go Out has been more than fulfilled. He's in a mostly residential area now. A few shops here and there but mostly apartments.

The whole time Bucky is outside he fights the urge to go back to his tiny apartment. He is exposed out here. There hasn't been a hydra sighting in over a month. Maybe he's finally lost them. The whole country has been looking for him since D.C. but they haven't found him once . Being called a terrorist feels vaguely insulting.

It's cold enough to warrant a jacket but he's maybe pushing it with the gloves He has a "skin" for his metal arm but wearing it makes him feel like he's still under Hydra's control. Also it feels like another lie, which he's trying to keep to a minimum.

In the beginning he hadn't thought anything of it. He was on the run and the truth wouldn't have gotten him far. As time passes he's less cautious. He doesn't go by Bucky just yet. James is a common enough name he can use it without much fear of discovery. James Crest for now.

The less he lies the more he feels like himself. At least he hopes this is himself. Bucky isn't really sure. He knows his name. Knows that Steve Rogers used to know Bucky Barnes. The research he'd done on his past told him the facts but he doesn't _remember_ it.

The epiphany he had earlier felt like a huge leap in the right direction. A fog lifted from his mind. He may not know just who this Bucky character is but he accepts that he isn't only Soldier. Isn't just an asset. It's time to figure out what he likes. He wants to know what he would have been doing the last seventy years if he wasn't a popsicle/ assassin.

A week in seattle and he knew nothing about the city. Somehow after exploring he knows everything important. Where to get passports, papers, a license, weapons. It's been that way in every place he's gone since fishing Captain America out of the water.

All he had left to do was go to a bar and get a drink. Felt like something he would do. But that would require talking to somebody. The bartender at the very least. He huffs out a breath of exasperation.

 _Get your shit together, Bucky. The bartender probably won't try to kill you when you order your drink_.

It is almost completely dark but he knows his way around now and nobody is going to try and rob him. He glances down at his clothes and realizes he looks...homeless. But terrifying all the same he assures himself.

_Mission: Pick a Bar. No murder. Easy._


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy and Bucky's first encounter. Of a sort.

Bucky finds a place close by. It isn't too crowded or loud and there's a mirror running the length of the bar. He can sit at it without feeling like his back is too exposed. He doesn't want to have to deal with the waitress. She looks chatty and the idea of holding a conversation with somebody makes him feel slightly ill.

   The bar is old but in good repair. Everything is made out of solid mahogany wood and polished to a shine. It's not brightly lit but not dark either. He strolls over to the bar and picks a stool to the right. He's out of sight from the windows but still has a clear view of the doors. Two middle aged men sit at the other end, obviously soused. They talk too loudly and laugh often.

   Bucky already assessed the threat level of the occupants. Minimal. Nobody was armed.

   The bartender braced his hands on the bar in front of him. He was about Bucky's age, with a kind smile and light brown hair. Smaller than Bucky, the man still obviously worked out. Probably more for looks than practicality. He examined Bucky for a moment then nodded once.

   "What can I get ya?" Aaaand Bucky blanked. What did he drink?

   "Bottle of Budweiser" Somebody answers. He hopes it's still around. There had been a shortage right before he left for...

_Well. That was easy._

   He blinks. Is it all going to be this easy? Is it all just going to come back to him when he needs it? Seems unlikely. He can't remember the taste. Or ever drinking the stuff.

   "Coming right up." The guy tapped the bar top once before going to retrieving the bottle. Bucky set a few bills down and scanned the room in the reflection. The waitress was coming back, her tray empty. She had short, spiky, black hair with red tips and a silver stud in her nose. Tall and skinny, she wore black pants, a white long sleeve dress shirt and a short, wine red apron.

  The woman walked behind the bar and primly deposited a wad of ones and fives in a tip jar. She set the tray under the bar and weaved around the bartender, snatching Bucky's beer as she passed. So much for avoiding chatty Kathy.

  The beer was placed in front of him with a thunk and a cherry red smirk. She snatched the bills and leaned her hip against the counter that held all of the alcohol.

   "I haven't seen you around here before, Scruffy. I'm Sammy. That's Michael." She inclined her head towards the bartender, delayed by the increasingly drunk pair at the other end of the bar.

   "James." Bucky corrected after a second of consideration. Big, sharp, gray eyes lined in black took his measure at a glance. The woman might not be as airy as he had assumed when he walked in.

   "James, then." She bobbed her head once, still smirking. "It's about to get busy so if Michael can't get to you just give me a call." With that she sashayed away and handed his money off to Michael.

   Bucky's eyes follow the sway of her hips all the way across the bar. He took a sip of his beer. Not bad. Not really his type. The woman, not the beer. The beer tasted like he imagined heaven might feel if he made it through those pearly gates. Also, apparently he has a type.

  Michael set his change down and greeted a group of girls coming in.

"Need anything, holler."

Bucky tipped his beer in acknowledgement. A woman came out of a back room followed closely by a big, old, brick of a man. He watched in the mirror as they approached. Wearing heels, she seems almost tall but she is definitely shorter than most. A little weary looking, dressed in a frilly skirt that fell short of her knees and a silky looking, purple, long sleeve blouse. Her lips are painted red and her thick, dark brown hair falls in not quite curls down past a generous chest.

   Bucky took a long pull from his beer, not taking his eyes off her reflection. Michael finished the group's drinks in record time. He might as well be on the other side of the bar, considering how far he's leaning over it.

   "Welcome to the Devil's Pocket family?" He half asked, a broad grin stretched across his face.

   "Notice the word 'family' in there, Michael. Guess you'll have to stop hitting on me everytime I come in." The woman snarked.

   "Darcy, honey, you're just so pretty we can't help it." Sammy crooned as she swept past.

  "That's enough, children. Darcy's going to work the bar when Amelia leaves." The brick rumbled and set a hand on the woman, Darcy's, shoulder. "She'll be here every night until then to get into the swing of things."

   "I thought you worked at some swanky law firm, Darce." Michael asked, glancing around to check everybody's drink.

   Bucky tuned out while he drained the last of the bottle of heaven and contemplated another. Could he even get drunk anymore? He twirled the bottle in his hands and examined the label. It didn't bring any flash of recognition, then again the label's probably different now.

   "Need another?" Bucky turned his attention back to the woman. Soft, blue gray eyes met his and she quirked an eyebrow questioningly. They must have finished their conversation because the older man was gone and Michael was at the other end of the room. The crowd had grown considerably in a short amount of time. Bucky was reaching the end of his tolerance. With a shake of his head he stood up. He laid a tip on the bar and made his escape.

   He likes this bar. Maybe he'll come back.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy's first night at the bar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longest chapter yet! Enjoy.

   Darcy was _exhausted_. Amelia, the other bartender, was leaving for college in a week. She had to know everything there was to know about being a bartender by then if she wanted to get this job. Jackson, the owner, had dismissed her almost on sight. College parties and girls nights do not a bartender make. So Darcy offered to work for free ,until Amelia left, to learn the finer points of bartending.

Darcy has been going to the Devil's Pocket since she moved to Seattle. She knows Michael, Sammy, Amelia, Nancy, Pat, and Jackson better than she knows anybody else in the whole city. Which is probably saying something about how much time she's spent drinking. Whiiich is probably saying something about how well she's not handling D.C.

   Getting into her beloved, shiny, black, 1970 mustang mach 1, she locked the doors and stared at the steering wheel. She bought this car cheap off her last foster dad, Frank. He rebuilt cars, played golf, and liked to stare at her boobs and flirt with her when his wife wasn't around. Darcy caught him cheating with some woman barely older than her and threatened to tell his wife. The car was her bribe. She told Emily anyways. The woman was a saint. Darcy's best not-mom ever.

   Every time she get's in this car she thanks god she didn't take it to New Mexico with her. It was like her baby. Six years and she hasn't had to put it in a shop once. Frank might be a dick but he know's his cars.

It wouldn't be the end of the world if she didn't get this job. She went to every cafe, grocery store, temp agency and office she could find today. Chances were somebody was going to hire her.

It took her ten minutes to drive home. She thought about her manic job hunt on the way. The idea of sitting around all day with nothing to distract her was unfathomable. It would drive her crazy. Too much free time equals too much time to think. She'd made it the last several months by throwing herself into work. She'd been the best damn secretary that asshole would ever have.

 

 

 

Darcy set her battered iPod carefully in it's dock and unlocked it. The screen was cracked and the camera was a goner, but it still worked and she'd be damned if she got rid of it after everything she'd gone through to get it back . Usually she danced. Every night she danced and sang at the top of her lungs to remind herself she was still alive. Still here. Still fighting. She just didn't have the energy tonight. She put on her soothing playlist. Between that and how tired she was, she might sleep through the night.

   Diablo was curled up tight in the middle of her bed. A tiny little whistle announced he was sleeping deeply. Kitten snoring. Adorable. She tossed her skirt and blouse in the wicker clothes basket, and slid under the covers, expertly avoiding jostling the kitten. The moment her head hit the pillow her eyes started sliding shut on their own accord. No consult with brain necessary.

_Time for sleep. Ah, pillow nice. Bed warm. Music on point. Kitten. Bed._

Darcy dreamed she was in a conference room. She'd seen this room before. Where had she seen this? Oh and that lady. Something about her eyes, darkest green she's ever seen. She knows the bored lady by the door. She has to. Somebody told her you couldn't dream faces you've never met. The door opened and a haggard looking man walked in. He dropped something on the huge glass table in front of her and disappeared. Darcy looked down. No. No. No no no no she was not having this dream. Her iPod. Shiny and perfect with a note attached. And that was it. She was sucked down into the dream. Forced to relive the worst event of her life.

   The dream came in disordered flashes of horror and terror. She was running now but the sharp barks of gunfire were everywhere. Nowhere was safe. Nobody was safe. Captain America's speech played over and over again.

 

A power tool grinding at stone and metal.

 

A terrified man took aim at her, his hand shook and sweat poured down his face. She froze.

"Wait, I'm not-"

He jerked his head to the side and pulled the trigger. Another shot rang out and he fell to the floor, a neat red circle on the side of his head.

Darcy jerked around, pressing a hand to the fiery pain in her shoulder.

The conference room woman stood, feet planted, gun raised and with a nasty lump forming on the side of her head. "Stick with me."

 

But her clothes were slowly becoming soaked with blood. Her face warped, now sooty and tear streaked. "Don't leave me. Please don't leave me here." She sobbed.

 

Walls crumbled around them, shifting to fit the scene that went with the womans face. The woman was pinned under a beam too large for Darcy to lift.

 

"I'm staying right here." Darcy promised clutching the woman's hand as tightly as she could. She was trapped anyways. She couldn't leave if she wanted to. And if it was the last thing she did, which it probably would be, she would make damn sure this woman didn't die alone.

 

Darcy crouched behind an overturned desk, hiding from the rain of bullets flying overhead, while she dialed Jane's number with shaking hands. No answer.

 

"You've reached Dr.Foster. I can't get to the phone right now-" "SHE'S TOO BUSY REWRITING THE LAWS OF PHYSICS, BITCHES!" "DARCY!" The beep cut them off and Darcy dropped her phone, curling into a ball by the green eyed woman.

 

Wandering around with a shock blanket thrown over her shoulders surrounded by sirens and screams.

 

Banging on the tilted wall as the faint voices drifted away.

 

"I'm in here! Help me please I'm still alive!" She screamed, half sobbing. She beat at the wall for what felt like hours. She slid down, crying. "I'm still in here." She whispered.

 

Jane grasping her close and pushing her away, yelling for a medic. "What are you doing, you're bleeding. You've been shot. Come sit down."

 

The green eyed woman's words were slurring, slowing. Darcy patted her face frantically. "Hey, hey, hey, stay with me okay? Just keep your eyes open."

 

"Ms. Lewis? Can you hear me? Can you open your eyes for me? Ms. Lewis!" They were so heavy though.

 

"Come on , Lady, you can do it. Open your eyes. Open your eyes!" She begged a dead woman.

 

"Oh god, Darcy!" Jane cried.

 

"She's in shock. She's lost a lot of blood. Why wasn't she sent to the hospital?"

 

"Open your eyes." Darcy whimpered.

 

 

 

 

The coffee pot gurgled angrily under Darcy's attentive supervision. It was almost two hours past noon. She'd gotten to bed some time after three. It was a bad night. She woke up every time her shitty dream ended. Then she needed a while to calm down. Then she struggled to fall back asleep. Wash , rinse, repeat. It always bothered her that she had her phone in the dream. She only tried to call Jane once before her phone was destroyed.

_Coffee will make this better. Coffee can fix anything._

The moment the pot finished she filled up a cup. She took a swig on her way to the fridge and swore.

"Hot. Hot hot hot. " Her phone rang and she answered it, tucking it between her shoulder and her face as she mixed coffee and creamer.

"Hello, this is Darcy ."

"Ms. Lewis, this is Annette Bradley with Garrick & Lawson's. I'm from accounting. I'm required to inform you that your last paycheck will not be direct deposited to your bank account. You'll have to come pick it up here, before five, tomorrow."

Darcy set everything down and grabbed the phone. She rubbed her eye with the heel of her hand. "Why can't - no never mind. That's fine. I'll be there. Thanks for calling me."

"Thank you for telling off Mr. Tims. Somebody had to pop his ego eventually. It was getting hard to fit through the door." Mrs. Bradley said quietly.

"Trust me, Mrs. Bradley, it was my pleasure." Darcy smiled viciously.

"Your check will be here tomorrow, Dear. By five. Have a nice day now."

Darcy tossed her phone on the counter and cradled her coffee with both hands. Diablo twined around her legs, hungry. She bet Mrs. Bradley was the same Mrs. Bradley that used to work for Timmy Tantrum. The gossip mill claimed she had a nervous breakdown and was placed somewhere else.

She had to get ready to go to the bar. Everything else, except coffee and Diablo, could wait.

 

 

 

 

It was almost empty when Darcy finally got there, just before five. An old man sat hunched over a beer in the corner.

Sammy was sitting at the bar, examining her nails and having a half hearted chat with Amelia. Amelia had chin length brown hair and never wore makeup. Her face was completely unadorned. Instead she wore the most intricate tattoos on her skin. Each one blended seamlessly into the other until they told a whole story.They looked up when the door opened.

"Daaaarrrrcccyyyy. Come here." Amelia waved her closer. "You're a life saver. I felt like a dick leaving these idiots on their own with nobody to look after them."

"I think they can survive without you for a while. Leave them enough food and water to last until you get out of college and they'll be alright." Darcy laughed.

"Hey, no fair. I know where the bar nuts are at least." Sammy stuck her tongue out and twirled her stool away from them.

Darcy sat down beside her and leaned on the bar. She stage whispered to Amelia. "I'll slip her some celery every once in a while. Make sure she has a balanced diet."

Amelia chuckled once before she got serious. "Alrighty. Get back here. You have soooooo much to learn before I leave."

Sammy whipped back around and smiled brightly. "I'll play customer. Free of charge."

"Yeah, right" the bartender snorted. "Why dont you go check on Moorey. He looks a little down."Sammy sulked away and planted herself by the scruffy old man.

Amelia clapped her hands together. "Okay. You know how to mix? Yeah? Alright. And you know how much is in a shot?" Darcy nodded at every question. "Alright alright. So basically all we really need to do is show you how to do it like a bartender. You need to know when and how to cut somebody off, you need to know how to keep up with a big crowd. You have to manage the bar and most of the orders. If the waitresses aren't too busy they'll help you out. Keep an eye on everybody's drinks. You see something funny going on, you call Jack. He'll take care of it." She pointed at the shelves of alcohol. "Top shelf is most expensive, bottom shelf is cheap swill."

_So far so easy._

"Now, everybody pays up front . Mikey's a bit more trusting than me, but don't let him tell you any different. Comes out of your paycheck." She paused and looked at Darcy real hard. "You following me?"

"Top shelf is expensive, bottom shelf is cheap. Everyone pays before they drink. Waitresses help when they can, don't listen to Michael. Funny business means call Jack."

"Good. Now for the fun part." She grinned and dropped two shot glasses on the bar.

 

 

 

 

Three hours later the bar was packed and Darcy was still maybe a little buzzed. Also, falling behind.

_This is why you shouldn't drink and job._

Amelia gave her half of the bar to deal with. So far she was doing fine. She'd had to ask Amelia how to make a few drinks and she was dedicated to picking up a book tomorrow and spending some quality time studying. This was so much more fun than being a secretary.

Sammy was suddenly draped over her shoulders. "Look. Scruffy James is back. He needs a haircut and a shave. Then he'll be pretty, pretty, pretty," She sighed. "And he's rolling in it. You should have seen the wad of money he pulled out last night."

Darcy pushed Sammy off and glanced towards the door.

_James, huh? Now I know you're name, Grumpy._

Darcy thought he was _pretty, pretty, pretty_ even with the scruffiness. Clear blue eyes, pretty pale skin, thick brown hair. Tasty muscles. A year ago even his surliness wouldn't have kept her from trying to get some of that.

"Ooh, ooh, here he comes. Give me that," She took the empty beers Darcy was holding and threw them in the trash. "I've got a minute. We can split your section. You take Scruffy."

"Yeah, yeah, okay."

_Getcha head in the game, Lewis. Bartending._

She collected a few bills and poured a shot of tequila for a college guy. She turned back around and there he was in the reflection.

_God, you look like you've been through some shit._

She put the bottle back.

_Get the man a drink. Just get him a drink._

"How can I help you?" She asked.

"Beer. Budweiser." Ew . Budweiser. Darcy was a Coors girl. She'd been drinking it since sophomore year. And talk about monotone.

"One second." She trotted to the middle of the bar and grabbed a bottle. Amelia threw a questioning look over her shoulder and Darcy gave her a thumbs up and a smile.

"Here you go." Darcy set the beer in front of him and slid the bills off the bar.

"Thank you." Mmh, very polite.

"No problem, dude." Sammy pointed at her tables and her full tray before leaving.

Darcy got caught up in the noise and the sheer amount of people crammed into the bar. It was different from the other side. She hardly had a moment of rest and it was perfect. Grumpy stayed all night. He drank so many beers Darcy was worried she would have to cut him off. He didn't seem the slightest bit tipsy so she chalked it up to an awesome metabolism and kept them coming. When the bar started clearing out he spoke up.

"Good first night?" He inquired, twirling the bottle in his hands. Darcy leaned back against the counter and pushed her hair back from her face. It was hotter than hell in here.

"Yeah, actually. It was fun." She replied, a little out of breath.

"Busy."

"I've never seen it that busy before." She hoped it stayed this way though. She hadn't felt this great in months.

"Neither have I. I'm glad you were here tonight or I would've been swamped," Amelia put in as she moved past them to the register. "You did good. Better than I expected."

"You hear this? She had no faith in me." Darcy huffed. The slightest hint of a smile graced his face.

"I had faith in you, doll." The accent made him ten times hotter than he already was and Darcy might actually have to take a minute for herself here.

"Brooklyn, huh? I'm from Ohio. I'm Darcy by the way."

"James." He said curtly.

"So I've heard." Darcy murmured, surprised at the abrupt change in his mood.

He started to say something but Sammy called her name and she had to go. Jackson wanted her. He stood up, obviously leaving. She was not disappointed. She was not.

"See ya around, James."

"Be careful, Darcy." His eyes met hers for the first time all night. He smiled widely once and left.

_I like that man. As odd as he is. I like him._


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, no Scruffy James in this chapter. You can have this Stressed Jane instead though. Thor is sooooo much harder to write than I thought he'd be.

She dreamed about D.C. again.

   Darcy's morning was a blur. Coffee. Cat. Shower. Clothes. Makeup. Office.

   She expertly avoided any area Mr.Tims might venture into on her way to accounting. Man, she did not want to be here. She felt odd, underdressed. She wore jeans, a comfy sweater, and flats. No need to get all dolled up to come here anymore. She didn't need the extra armor anymore. This was the last time she would ever set foot in this building. The relief she felt at that was overwhelming. This place had been suffocating her when all she needed was to stretch her wings. No more drowning in monotony for her.

   By the time she stepped into accounting she was beaming. Accounting consisted of a short counter that looked into a medium sized room half hidden by the wall of an office. To the right were two gleaming wooden doors leading to said office and to the room in general. She approached the counter and rang the bell primly. Something thumped and she leaned forward trying to see around the corner.

   "Hold on, oooone second," A woman's voice called from the open floor, obscured by the wall. A moment later a tall and wiry woman wearing glasses appeared with a smile. She looked a little ruffled. "Tripped over a chair." She explained, smoothing her dull brown hair down.

 _Okayyyy_.

   "Dangers of the office. I'm Darcy Lewis, I'm here to see Mrs. Bradley."

   "That's me," The woman replied brightly. Huh, she sounded different on the phone. Older. "I have some paperwork for you to fill out and then I can get you your check." Paperwork. Darcy hadn't thought of that. She'd mostly worked in food service and coffee shops before.

   "Sure. Can you tell me what happened? Why couldn't it be deposited?"

   "There was some error, I wasn't personally involved, I'm sorry. I'm just here to pass it along." She slid a few pieces of paperwork and a pen across the counter. Darcy picked up the pen and clicked it, ready to destroy this paperwork and get the fuck out off here.

   "Ow." Something jabbed her in the thumb. She examined the end of the pen but it appeared smooth. It must have got her pretty good though because a drop of blood slid down her hand.

   "Are you alright?" The words inspired a sharp irritation and a wave of nausea. Darcy opened her mouth to reply but her vision darkened around the edges and Mrs. Bradley's concerned voice faded out.

   A phone rang insistently and the world snapped back into focus. "Ms. Lewis?" Mrs. Bradley was holding out her check. Darcy automatically reached out and took it. "I have to get that. Thank you for coming in and dealing with all of this." She waved the papers around and Darcy caught sight of her signature scrawled at the bottom. She glanced at her thumb. No blood. It didn't even sting anymore. "You sure you're alright?"

   "Um," she cleared her throat. "No problem. I. Yeah. Thanks." She tucked the check in her wallet and shoved it in her purse. She turned and left. Quiet panic grew into fear as she hurried out to her car. She swiped her thumb across her fingers over and over. Nothing.

_What the fuck, what the actual fuck just happened?_

   She climbed into the drivers seat and curled in on herself, bringing her feet up onto the seat. She doesn't remember filling out the papers. There's no blood, no wound. She pulls out her phone and checks the time. Her hands are trembling. It's been twenty minutes since she walked in. She remember maybe five minutes. Why would she lose time like that? Could it happen again? Did she imagine the whole pen incident? The memory of the blood running down her hand was vivid in her mind. She couldn't stand the sight of blood, never could.

   Was she losing her mind? Did she snap? Until now, the last day or so had been the best days since she moved to Seattle. She even kinda sorta had a job that she enjoyed doing.

   She sucked in a deep breath and let it out.

 _Breathe_.

   Okay. So she might be going crazy. Nothing she could do about it right now. She'd make an appointment. Later. She'd do it later. 

 

 

 

 

   Jane surveyed her new lab, hands on her hips. Moving everything without Darcy had been ten times as hard as the move to London. Even with Stark's help, Jane's organizational skills left something to be desired. She got back to the States three weeks ago. The equipment she had shipped ahead? Not in America.

   In between running a company and running Tony, Pepper had somehow hunted it all down for her. Jane crossed her arms and trued her best not to be jealous. Every time _she_ called the company, they ran her through twenty different people who all told her the same thing.

   "Our records show that your packages arrived in New York." To which she would reply that she had gone _personally_ to pick them up and they _were not in New York._ Cue apologetic 'let me redirect you to somebody else' speech.

   Thor had dutifully offered to fly to each pick up point in the world but she had, thankfully, talked him out of it.

   Then after Pepper found it, in Belgium of all places, it had to go through the most rigorous security check she had ever seen. She might have teared up a little when she saw it all pulled apart. Stark himself had made sure it was all put together properly after it passed inspection, but she had seen him judging her duct tape. She wouldn't be surprised if she came back tomorrow to see that he had replaced everything. He had offered to do just that when she first discovered everything was missing.

   "Jane," Thor asked tentatively, "Is everything done to your satisfaction?" The group of Stark's employees had fled as soon as the last of the equipment was installed. Jane hadn't been that bad...had she? She knew she had a tendency to be a control freak when it came to science.

   "It will do. I have to make sure everything is calibrated correctly. Then tonight I can get started again, I've lost so much time, so much data.I almost had the-" She trailed off striding over to her whiteboard, completely ignoring Stark's fancy tech, and started scribbling equations. She almost had it she knew she almost had it. She needed the readings from... where did she put those. She rifled through the stacks of paper on the desk. "This is all out of order. How does this happen. I just put this together. I-"

"Jane."

  "This didn't happen when Darcy was here. Everything was always where it was supposed to be. Except some... stuff, but I was responsible for that. Where is-" she dumped the papers on the desk and snapped her head from side to side, searching " Where is my phone?"

   "I have it, Jane-" She darted forward and grabbed her phone, quickly scrolling through to make sure she hadn't missed a call.

   "What if she calls? I have to answer if she calls. I can't miss a call from Darcy." It's been over half a year since she left  _but still._

   "Jane!" Thor boomed. She stopped and glared at him.

   "What?" She demanded. He glanced down once before meeting her eyes again.

   "I think that perhaps your work should wait for the morrow. It's been days since you slept more than an hour. Jarvis will inform us if Lady Darcy calls, do you remember? The one request you made of him? It is time for rest." Seeing the hesitance in his actions made her realize how much of a bitch she'd been all day.

   "Thor, I'm sorry. It's just. The stress of the move, Erik, I don't know." She dropped her head in her hands. "Let's go to bed." She said, muffled through her hands.

   "You have nothing to apologize for, my Jane," he reached out and pulled her tight in his overly gentle way. Like if he squeezed too hard he would snap her. Well he might _actually_ snap her if he squeezed too hard. If nothing else, he always remembered to be gentle with her. Plates, door knobs, _actual doors_ , not so much. Tables, toasters, chairs, cars...she could go on for hours. And that damn hammer. If she trips over it one more time she will...leave it where it is and make Thor move it. God damn it she hates that hammer sometimes "I will endeavor to keep Mjolnir out of the way from now on." He chuckled. Rumbled. Whatever. Jane flushed. She really did need to sleep. She had no filters left. Did she really say all of that out loud. She started to reply but Thor hoisted her, that doesn't even describe it, that makes it sound like some sort of effort was involved, into his arms and turned to the doors.

"Thooooor." She groaned. "Put me down, I can walk."

   "If I put you down you will have a flash of inspiration somewhere along the way and come running back to your lab." The doors slid open as he neared them.

"I would-"

   "Do as I just said. Do not deny it." Jane dropped her head against him and _did not_ pout.

   "Maybe," They were quiet for a while. The elevator arrived soundlessly. Thor stepped in and managed to push the button without jostling her.Then in a quiet voice, "I miss Darcy. I think I should call her. Just check on her. See how she's doing." The former intern had been a mess before she left. She didn't sleep, she didn't eat, she didn't talk. It had been like living with a ghost of the bright and vivacious young woman Jane had grown to love.

   "She has requested that we leave her be." Thor replied as quietly as he ever spoke. "She no longer wishes to be part of this world."

"But what if-"

   "If she was in any danger or in need of our assistance Jane, then she would tell us." They elevator came to a smooth stop, the doors sliding open. He stepped out of the elevator on their floor and headed directly for the bedroom.

   "We should have never left England. For an iPod!" Shield couldn't have just...just _shipped_ it to us, nooo. Darcy had to go in person to get it back. And what if I hadn't gone with her?! She would have bled out in the parking lot. Or if I'd just gone to Shield with her..." It wasn't the first time they'd had this conversation. Probably wouldn't be the last.

   "You cannot change the past. What has happened shall never change. You can only have hope for the future." He set her on the bed and kneeled in front of her. He held both her hands in his. "Do you need anything, love?"

"Glass of water?"

   "One moment." He rose and headed for the kitchen. As she waited she found herself fiddling with her phone until her thumb hovered over Darcy's contact. Just one message couldn't hurt, right? Thor reappeared in the doorway the glass in his hand.

"Jane. We gave her our word."

   "I...I know." She set the phone on the bedside table, defeated.

   "Lady Darcy suffered greatly. But she is strong. Right now, somewhere she is rebuilding her life, her very self, into something even stronger."

 

 

 

   On the other side of the country in a club she'd forgotten the name of, Darcy was definitely doing something. Rebuilding her life? Sorta. She had made a new friend. Or two. Darcy hadn't been this drunk since...okay a few weeks ago, but damn she was DRUNK. Sammy was swaying to the beat beside her, nearly as drunk as she was. That girl was a bad influence. A bad bad bad influence. Amanda had left with a handsome blond man almost an hour ago. Her husband actually. Darcy hadn't even known she was married until tonight.

   It had all started when the lights had flickered and gone out at Devil's Pocket. A chorus of groans and a slew of loud, creative, and physically improbable swearing from Jack, had ensued. Amanda pulled a heavy duty lantern from under the bar and lit it.

   "Everybody out! The night has been called on account of shitty wiring. If you need a cab we'll call one." She hollered, pointing the flashlight around. Cell phones lit up all around the bar as people ranging from sober to flat out drunk made their way to the door and bar, respectively.

   Darcy already knew the drill. This had happened once or twice before and she'd been one of the people who needed to call a cab. She ignored her disappointment. He probably wouldn't have come tonight anyway. Three nights in a row? Unlikely. She pulled out her phone and dialed the cab service's number written in big bubbly script with a purple dry-erase marker on the mirror. This was going to take a while.

   An hour later the bar was cleared, somebody was coming to check out the wiring tomorrow, and Sammy and Amanda were making P-L-A-N-S. Which was terrifying considering that Jack, big tough Jack, had run away with hurried excuses the moment they tried to include him.

   They turned as one to face her. She could use a night out. After her freaky memory lapse this morning she'd been tense, jumpy.

  "I'm free," she shrugged. Jack reappeared behind the two and shook his head frantically. "Orrrr...I'm..not?" Sammy whipped around and shot a glare at their boss.

   "Thought you were 'busy' tonight, Boss?" She made finger quotes around the word busy.

   "Don't scare off the new girl. She's got promise. Make sure to lock up when you leave." He grumbled before heading out. Darcy couldn't deny the warmth that spread through her. It'd been a long time since anyone had approved of her. Mr. Tims just yelled at her.

   She leaned over the bar across from the girls."So where are we going?"

 

 

   "Shot?!" Sammy yelled over the bass. Probably not a good idea. No more alcohol. Ever again. Maybe just one more though. And so it went.

   A group of guys joined them and Darcy spent the rest of the night doing shots of tequila with Sammy and hardcore flirting with the guys. Making out with somebody tall and delicious. It wasn't who she wanted. She pushed him away. Then he was gone and her and Sammy were dancing and laughing and Darcy felt for a moment that everything was whole and fine. Complete. Probably she was just drunk. They stayed until the club shut down.

   "Shit it's cold." Sammy slurred leaning against a brick wall outside.

   "Cab'll be here soon." Darcy promised, joining her. She burrowed herself deeper into her coat and blearily thought that she was going to move somewhere _waaarm_.

   "We called aggeeees ago." Sammy whined as she snuggled into Darcy.

   "Its been like three minutes, girl, chill." Darcy laughed. Sammy's eyes lit up and she jammed her ice cold hands down Darcy's coat. Darcy shrieked and they stumbled away from the wall as she tried to remove the offensively cold hands and Sammy fought to keep them right where she put them.

   "Darcy, you're so waaaaaarm though." She protested through her giggles .

   "Stick'em in your pockets you crazy drunk woman. I'm not your personal heater." Darcy gasped between laughs. She finally twisted free and Sammy pouted.

   "I'm gonna get frostbite. My fingers are gonna fall off and then I'll have to find a new job and it will all be your fault, Darcy Lewis." She held out her hands then wiggled the digits in question. Darcy squinted her eyes, pretending to examine them. Or maybe she just couldn't see very straight without closing one.

   "You know, you might be right," she pointed in the general direction of one hand. "Does that look like frostbite to you?"

   "What?!" The other girl panicked, withdrawing her hands and closing one eye like Darcy had to see them better. Darcy rolled her eyes.

   "S'not that cold, Doofus. I like your nails though. Sparkly." She nodded approvingly. Sammy glared. Her eyes flicked to the side and then she lunged forward, grabbing Darcy's arm and pulling her along.

   "Cab!" She yelled gleefully. They narrowly beat a couple who had started shuffling towards it. "Miiine." Sammy singsonged, yanking open the door and depositing Darcy inside. Darcy barely had time to scoot over before Sammy poured herself onto the seat beside her. "Heeeeat." She moaned. 

   Darcy leaned forward and told the cabbie where she needed to go. Sammy did too and then they huddled together again. The cab pulled away from the curb and Darcy leaned her head on Sammy's shoulder. Drinking _was not_ the answer to her problems. Being normal though? Going out to have fun with people she found that she thoroughly enjoyed being around? She was, for the first time in a long time, content. Or drunk. Could be both.

   

   Across the city in an "abandoned" warehouse a woman, who suspiciously resembled the Mrs. Bradley Darcy had met, handed over a small cooler to a tall thin man. Inside was a vial of blood.

   "What did you even need this for? She doesn't seem like anything special," She glanced around the well lit room, eyes roving over the faces of the men gathered in it. Nosey. That wouldn't do. Not at all. "Showed up earlier than I expected. I was barely ready."

   "Ms. Lewis may be a promising subject for my latest project. Sadly, I lost access to the last sample I acquired when Shield fell. It's so very _tedious_ to arrange a proper disappearance only to discover it was all for naught."

   The man handed off the cooler. He turned back to the fake Mrs. Bradley.

   "Now for the matter of your payment," He pulled a gun and shot her between the eyes. She crumpled to the ground. "You had a big mouth." He explained to the corpse. He waved the men towards her.

   "Make sure this gets cleaned up." He took back the cooler and left the room.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being a strong independent brainwashed(sorta) assassin was hard work

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Itty bitty baby chapter for Christine and everybody else that commented. Its been a while but I haven't forgotten this story.

Bucky had been laying in bed examining the cracks in his ceiling for an hour now. He had them perfectly memorized. He knew where each one branched into the next and where they broke off before reforming a few inches farther. Before that he'd checked out the stains. He could paint the water stains perfectly, if he was the artistic type. And the carpets. The carpets didn't even need mentioned. After this examination he came to one conclusion. 

_ This place is a fucking shithole. _

But adequate enough to fulfil his needs. As a base of operations it would do. 

_ But still a fucking shithole. _

Assets didn't need a roof over their head. Assets didn't need anything other than the tools necessary to complete the mission.

_ Not a fucking asset. I don't have a mission. _

Assets didn't think. Didn't question. They did as they were told. Assets returned to base after a failed mission for assessment.

  1. _Am. Not. An. Asset._



Bucky sat up and fisted his hands in the sheets. He needed out.  He needed a distraction. He was going insane, or maybe more insane, just sitting here. 

Assets don't.

"Stoooooop." He groaned. All day. He'd been doing this all day. It's been a week since he left.  His last excursion had been to his bar and the crush of people had pushed waaaay past his idea of comfortable.  He'd stayed anyway, drinking beer after beer until he began to feel their effect. So he could still get drunk. Might take something a bit harder than beer. Did he like liquor? Wouldn't know until he tried it.  

His stomach chose that moment to put its own two cents in. There was another reason to leave. He was...hungry? Yeah, he was starving actually.  His refrigerator was bare and the cupboards were best described as...dusty. Also he needed to do laundry. The perils of freedom.

Errands it was. How fun.

He realized his hands were still gripping the sheets. He pried his fingers free and glared murderously at where his metal hand had shredded them.  He flowed to his feet and stalked over to the duffle bag he never managed to make himself unpack  and ripped open a pocket. Inside was a black rubbery ball.  He grabbed it and bounced it hard off the floor. It hit and rebounded heading unerringly towards his arm. When it hit it immediately formed to his arm. The texture and color changed, softening into skin and hardening into nails. As impressive as his arm was this little piece of technology made him marvel at what people could achieve. Stolen Stark tech if he remembered correctly. Heh. 

 

Standing at attention in a lab. A scientist boasting about his stolen genius, "We've managed to create something useful out of this. Camouflage for you." The skeletal man raised his voice and addressed him like he was a child. "Now when wearing it you must be very careful not to jar it too hard. It will change back to this," he pointed to the ball he held, "And then you'll be exposed." A redheaded woman appeared behind the man and rolled her eyes. When the man glanced over his shoulder her expression was blank. "Do you understand?"

"Yes." He said. Anything to get out of here. Natalia was waiting.

 

He shook his head to dislodge the memory. Natalia. She was...important? She meant something to him. And she seemed familiar. Had he seen her since he woke up? His memories of DC were hazy and disjointed. But he could recall a flash of red hair. 

He tugged on his last clean t-shirt and pushed the thought from his mind. He couldn't unearth his memories on his own. They came to him or they didn't and no amount of digging would yield results. He grabbed a fistful of cash and ghosted out the door. Errands. Food. Laundry detergent. Or he could go to the bar...

  
  
  


He preferred going out at night. Less people to keep track of and it was somewhat quieter. At the same time he craved human contact. Felt like he was starving for it.  Other people made him deeply uncomfortable though. He could handle it in small doses. Just a quick fix and then he was out, gone, ghost, set for a few days. The only way he had managed that whole night at the bar was the pretty bartender. Darcy. The way she moved was captivating. She bounced between patrons like she was bursting with energy. She probably didn't find company draining. Then again she probably didn't spend decades snared in Hydra's delicate little claws. 

Disaster struck in the form of a dark and empty bar. He stood in front of the doors, baffled. He'd blown off being productive only to find this. 

_ Can't be the only bar in Seattle.  _ He reassured himself. But none of the other bars had a tiny curvy bartender that happened to occupy his thoughts.  _ Damn. _


End file.
